After David
by akblake
Summary: What happened after The First David Job when the team scatters for three months... Parker intends to help Eliot, but doesn't realize that she's the one in need of help. Not really shippy but could be read as such if you want :)


**A/N: First, I *adore* feedback- it brightens my day and makes my muses giggle :) Second, this is a tag to ****_The First David Job_****. Eliot took quite a beating from Quinn, and perhaps he's not the only one in need of a little TLC and comfort. Continues in my ****_Friends_**** universe, but isn't a sequel. **

Eliot fractionally turned his head as he walked through the streets. He'd picked up a shadow somewhere and the faintest scrape of fabric against a building's brick façade reached his ears. Sloppy or deliberate, he couldn't tell, but it was time to lose his follower. He ducked down the next alley he came to, silently skirting the refuse covering its pavement, and entered a café's back door. Exiting the café's front door onto a different street, he changed direction to jog through a small wooded park. Eliot held his left arm close to support his ribs as the jarring pace jostled them painfully. He didn't _need_ this on top of the beating he took from Quinn!

No more sounds followed him into the park, and careful surveillance revealed only a jogger with his Labrador and a pair of lovebirds necking on the grass. He stood for a few more minutes and let his body settle down, pain receding to a sharp stab rather than a vice clamping his chest, and still couldn't spot anyone amiss. Eliot turned and resumed his slow walk to his safe house. He'd have to patch himself up and wait out the team's separation- LA was a little too hot for them to stay together right now.

Parker dropped out of the tree she'd scaled to evade Eliot's searching gaze and smiled; she was right- he was going to the safe house, and she knew where it was. If she ran, she'd be able to break in and have time to spare before he reached the front door given the speed he was moving. She easily dealt with his security system, had been breaking and entering on her own long before Hardison's bag of tricks put the voodoo on electronic systems, and mischievously locked and rearmed the system before popping up to sit in plain sight on the back of Eliot's couch. She may have been reckless, but she didn't have a death wish.

Eliot still maintained full caution as he walked down the hallway to the door of his third floor apartment. He hadn't heard or felt his shadow again since before the café, but he couldn't be too careful. He dug out his keys to unlock his door, and froze as he caught a faint scent- jasmine. Eliot smiled as he unlocked the door and disabled his alarm via the keypad beside the door. He carefully kept his back to the room and turned to lock the door behind him, "Hello Parker. Wouldn't it have been easier to just walk with me?" He faced the room in time to see surprise widen her eyes and had to restrain a laugh. He rarely got to startle the cat burglar and she made an amusing sight as she bounced off the back of his couch and crept over to him, eyes still wide.

"Are you psychic? Can you read my mind?" she fired rapidly as she came close enough to go nose to nose with Eliot.

He blinked a couple of times at the closeness and tried to ignore her intent stare. He eventually had to grab her upper arms and physically move her back to a comfortable distance before he could speak to her. "Of course I'm not psychic, Parker. Just smelled your shampoo where you stood to pick the lock on my door is all. And you didn't need to follow me- ain't hurt enough to need help, just a couple banged up ribs is all," he explained. Parker then uncharacteristically looked away, actually _fidgeting_.

"W-well, you also have a concussion, Nate said," Parker justified weakly and turned away from his scrutiny to fiddle with a small glass sculpture on the end table. She wasn't exactly there to help Eliot, or at least she was but it wasn't the only reason.

Eliot plucked the sculpture out of her hands and put it safely down on the table. "Yeah, got whacked in the head a couple times, but I can see fine and can still count to ten in five languages, so it's only a bad headache now." Parker had moved on around the small living room, picking up decorations and laying them back down in random spots, but she still wouldn't look at him. He had to fight down irritation with her; Parker used craziness as a way of deflecting, and getting angry with her would only lead in circles and circles of nonsense. A sudden thought struck him and he backed off to the bedroom, calling behind him, "I need to wrap these ribs and could use an extra hand."

Parker nearly sighed in relief at the change in subject as she eagerly trotted into the well-stocked bathroom to retrieve supplies. She couldn't bring herself to actually put into words how she felt and was grateful for the reprieve. Lingering jitters were covered as she grabbed the elastic bandage, depositing it on the dresser in the bedroom, and helped Eliot remove his shirts. Unlike other times she'd helped, he calmly let her do most of the work, cooperatively ducking his head so she could ease his undershirt up over it, and held the end of the bandage as she firmly wrapped his ribs. Eliot manipulated his sore jaw and checked his teeth while she worked. Quinn hit well and had actually managed to loosen a molar on his left and cut the inside of his cheek, but nothing required a dentist.

"I lost three teeth that way," Parker chimed in as she caught his actions.

Eliot blinked blankly for a second then shot her a funny look. "You got all your teeth, I've seen 'em when you gross out Hardison while eating," he replied, confused. False teeth just didn't look like normal ones, no matter how good the replacements were. It was something that he should have noticed if she'd had any.

Parker looked at him like he'd grown two heads, "They were only _baby_ teeth, silly." She shook her head and went back to wrapping his ribs, patting the bandage when she was done.

Only baby teeth. There was an ugly world of meaning behind those three words and Eliot's eyes closed as he suddenly understood. Someone had hit Parker, hard or often enough to knock out three teeth while she was still a kid. The team knew that her background wasn't pleasant, but it still knocked him off center when she casually dropped tiny details into conversation. What kind of person _did_ that to a child? That question was followed closely by more distressing thoughts- did it happen after she orphaned herself, or was it the reason she set off the house's gas main? Parker had admitted to blowing up her home when she was eight, complete with monstrous parents inside, when she was concussed and rambling in the Caymans.

He hadn't said a word about that secret, but knew from long experience that the best way to create a disturbed personality was in an environment with only constant criticism, no affection or praise. Add physical abuse to the mix and he could easily see why Parker was so fractured. She'd tried to piece herself back together, but the pieces didn't quite fit- off kilter or even missing in some places, and his awareness of those missing pieces was what sparked his sudden thought tonight.

Parker scrambled back into the living room as Eliot changed into a pair of flannel pants and a sleeveless shirt before he dumped his dirty clothes into the washer to soak out the blood stains.

By the time he came back to the living room, Parker was hovering by the door. She didn't know how to ask, or even what exactly she was asking for, and figured that leaving would be better than making a fool of herself. She shifted from foot to foot, growing more restless as Eliot watched her and finally had to break the strange silence, "What!?"

"Why did you come here, Parker?" Eliot's expectant look kept her from fleeing and she scrambled to make sense of the mess of feelings swirling in her chest. He kept from crossing his arms and instead leaned back against the back of his sofa, hands braced out to the sides as he made sure to present an open posture.

Parker fidgeted a moment more and tried to explain. "I wanted… No one… The team…" she stopped and made a frustrated noise. "I just got used to being part of a team," was the best that she could get out. When she looked back up again, Eliot was giving her a small smile.

"Do you want to stay here until it's safe for the team to get back together?" he'd let her wrestle with herself long enough and decided to offer what she was trying to ask for. She had been slowly opening up to him and the others, learning from them and filling in some of those missing pieces, and he could see that their abrupt separation had left her feeling unsettled and adrift.

Dark eyes watched him warily. Parker desperately wanted to accept his offer, but hesitated. Losing her independence was her greatest fear and she'd never needed anyone like she'd come to depend on the other four. She watched Eliot as he simply remained against the couch, still and quiet and the answer hit her. None of her teammates had ever hurt her or intentionally put her at risk, unlike others she'd run into in her past, and of them all Eliot was always the most consistent with her. He'd helped her when she was in trouble, cared for her when she got hurt, even allowed her far more liberties in annoying him than he let anyone else… Parker leaned back against the wall when slightly wobbly legs wanted to give out. She trusted him. She _trusted_ him.

"You'd let me stay?" she asked to make sure that she hadn't misunderstood, but she already knew. A grin threatened to break loose as the knot of emotions in her chest loosened.

Eliot quirked an eyebrow at her, "If you want to stay, then sit your butt down and I'll make us something to eat." He walked to his tiny kitchen and inventoried what supplies he had on hand, deliberately turning his back on Parker to let her make her own decision on whether to stay or go. He huffed a small laugh as he heard a body thump onto his couch, flying leap he calculated from the noise. The unnecessary wrapping and effort he'd spend cooking were both sacrifices he'd happily make if it meant that he could help his friend when she needed it, even when she didn't think she needed his help. After being so close to four other people it felt lonely to be cut off and he'd never admit, even under torture, that he was looking forward to having someone else around while they waited.


End file.
